


Deep Blue Ocean

by carolinecrane



Series: surfing [2]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg shouldn't drink tequila.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Blue Ocean

Greg let Nick take him to dinner, at one of those hole in the wall places the tourists always pass by because they never look quite safe. And he hadn't lived near L.A. for a long time, but he still remembered the best places to get a steak. Places where he could hear Nick without having to shout, where they could talk in low voices about the rush of the waves and the feel of the surf lifting them up into the sky.

He liked listening to Nick talk about surfing, liked watching his eyes light up and knowing the adrenaline was still pumping through his system. And he knew Nick would never get to sleep until he burned off a little of that energy, so after dinner Greg talked him into going to a club. 

There were other ways they could burn off energy, sure, but Greg wasn't sure Nick was ready for him to suggest that. Wasn't sure Nick would ever be ready, and that was one of the biggest frustrations about wanting someone as straight-laced as Nick. Because Greg was pretty sure he was interested – attracted, at least – but he was equally sure Nick wasn't going to do anything about it.

So instead of inviting Nick into his bed he took him to a club, one of those places where the music was too loud and the crowd was too thick, where you had to dance whether you wanted to or not because the whole place moved as one. Like a living thing all on its own, and that was what Greg liked about places like this. It was easy to forget who you were, easy to get lost in the crowd and just let go for awhile.

And that was exactly what Nick needed, so Greg ignored his protests and fed him placating lies about 'just one drink' and dragged Nick onto the dance floor as soon as they got inside. He let Nick get swept away by the first girl who came along, pulled another one out of the crowd and grinned at her before he spun her around. She came right back to him laughing and breathless, and Greg smiled back because this was something he didn't get often enough anymore.

It didn't matter that he'd rather be dancing with Nick. It didn't matter what he wanted, because they were here to burn off a little energy and Greg didn't expect anything more. He didn't expect anything to come of the looks Nick had been giving him all night, the shy smiles during dinner and the glances he stole whenever he thought Greg wasn't looking. That was just…Nick.

Nick who could dance, and that part Greg hadn't really expected. He'd never really thought of Nick as the type to move like…that, all hips and coordination and Greg didn't really care that he was staring. Because Nick always came off so rigid, so surprised by all the weirdness that was Vegas even after all this time, and Greg couldn't imagine a time when he was comfortable enough to let himself go. Not where other people could see, anyway, and as soon as he thought it he felt his cock stirring.

Because he'd spent plenty of time imagining the way Nick moved, how his hips would roll when he fucked someone – girl, guy, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was Nick – Nick's hands, his mouth and his strong, strong back, and Greg had come to that image more times than he could count. But seeing Nick like this told him all kinds of things he never thought he'd know for sure, and suddenly he wished he had suggested going back to his room after dinner.

He knew what the answer would be, though, so he didn't suggest it when they stopped to get that one drink Greg mentioned almost an hour ago. And he didn't suggest going back to the hotel or remind Nick about early seminars because if he couldn't have Nick to himself, at least he could watch him move. 

"Some sorority girl," Nick said when Greg asked where he'd learned to dance, breathless and laughing and leaning just a little too close to make himself heard over the crowd. "Tina, I think. Tammy, maybe."

And Greg had never had much use for sorority girls, but he was grateful for this one, whatever-her-name-was, because if it wasn't for her he never would have seen Nick like this. Flushed and grinning, shirt open against the heat in the club and Greg didn't bother pretending he wasn't looking. If Nick noticed he didn't seem to mind, and maybe he liked the attention. Or maybe it just didn't seem real; maybe Nick felt the same way Greg did, like he'd been floating on some weird dream since they ditched the conference and headed for the beach.

He hadn't felt like that in a long time, but he didn't want it to end so he stood up again, downed the last of his drink and nodded in the direction of the dance floor. He didn't wait to see if Nick would follow him, just let himself be pulled into the crowd by hands that could have belonged to any number of the people pressing in on him. For awhile he managed to keep his mind off Nick – thirty full seconds at least – before he found himself looking around, scanning the crowd when he found the table where he'd left Nick empty.

It took a few minutes to find him, but when he did Nick was pressed up against some other girl. A redhead this time, tall and thin and it was good. It was good, and Greg didn't mind because this was the reason they were here. He wanted Nick to have a good time, wanted him to loosen up a little and remember what it was like to do something just because he wanted to. 

That was the only reason he watched Nick grinding against some girl he didn't know, the only reason he noticed all the other eyes on Nick. And he didn't mind that either, because he'd never been the jealous type. He hadn't, he just didn't get what certain people saw in certain other people. Like the redhead who looked like she was trying to crawl inside Nick, and when she kissed him Greg turned around and pushed his way to the bar.

He didn't drink that much anymore – hadn't done shots in a long time – but he ordered a shot of Cuervo anyway and when the bartender set down a salt shaker and a bowl of limes he ordered another. And he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the sudden motion, but when he felt himself spinning before he even swallowed his second shot it took a second to catch his balance. Blinked and focused on Nick, forehead creased with his usual worry and that wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. Tonight was supposed to be about letting go, not Nick frowning at him like Greg was one of his projects.

The last thing he wanted to be was one of Nick's projects, but Nick was already asking him what was wrong, lips moving but it was too loud at the bar to hear him and before he could stop himself Greg was leaning in. 

He didn't mean to do it. He didn't even mean to _think_ it, but they were the same height and Nick's mouth was close to his and Greg wasn't drunk, but he could feel the tequila warming him from the inside and when he leaned a little closer Nick was just…there. Mouths pressed together, both of them frozen and for a second Greg was sure he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life. But before he had a chance to panic Nick groaned against him and opened his mouth, one strong hand on Greg's neck and wow, Nick could kiss. Better than Greg ever let himself imagine, hot and insistent and vibrating all the way down to his toes.

Greg wasn't sure how long it lasted – twenty seconds, maybe thirty – before Nick was pulling away, staring at Greg like a deer caught in headlights and his heart sank before Nick even started babbling excuses. He got as far as 'sorry' and 'this is a bad idea' before Greg tuned him out, because he didn't want to hear about work and Grissom and regulations. He didn't want to hear any of it, so he shook his head and paid his tab before he turned back to Nick.

"Forget it," he heard himself say, voice far away like he was shouting from the end of a tunnel. "It was the Cuervo. I shouldn't drink tequila, it makes me do stupid things."

Nick flinched at the word 'stupid' and Greg hated himself for getting a bitter thrill out of it. But he didn't let himself take it back, didn't even let himself look back to make sure Nick was following him before he pushed his way through the crowd and out of the club. He didn't have to, because he could _feel_ Nick back there and they'd known each other long enough for Greg to know that Nick was busy blaming himself for everything. And it really was stupid, because it was just a kiss and there was no reason to freak out about it.

Just a kiss. Just a kiss Greg had wanted for a long time but never let himself believe he could have, and now that he'd taken it he was pretty sure Nick was never going to look at him again. Part of him wished Nick would just go back to his redhead, disappear into the crowd and tomorrow they could just pretend it had all been some fucked up dream. But Nick was right behind him, not trying to stop him or talk to him but keeping an eye on him, like Greg couldn't take care of himself.

That was the worst part, the part where Nick felt like he had to fix something that wasn't broken. It wasn't, not really, because it wasn't like Greg had never dealt with rejection before. He took a shot and it didn't work out, and yeah, it was a dumb thing to do, but it wasn't the end of the world. If Nick wanted to make it into a big deal that was his problem, but it didn't mean Greg had to go along with it.

When they finally – finally – made it back to the hotel he bypassed the elevators and took the stairs up to his room, five long flights and he was in decent shape, but he was still breathing hard when he reached his floor. And he wasn't expecting to find Nick waiting for him, so he wasn't disappointed when the hallway was deserted. He wasn't disappointed when he made it all the way to his room without a sign of life, and he didn't hesitate before he shut the door and listened to the lock click behind him.

Because it was just a kiss. One stupid kiss, and he'd forget about it in no time.


End file.
